Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Shifting Reality

Today on Drabble Wednesday, what you see may not be as real as you think...

Seeing Things

“I swear things were there, and then they weren’t. One minute a big ass SUV was parked in my neighbour’s driveway, and the next, poof, it was a just a regular old car. And then the house turned pink. Pink, man! What kind of weird ass shit turns a house pink? It’s crazy.”
The police detective sighed. “You take any drugs tonight?”
“No way! I ain’t on nothing! I swear! I wish I was, man!”
“Wait here.” The detective leaves. His boss waits outside the interview room.
“Another parallel universe incident?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send him for a memory wipe.”


Too Close

Edges slipping, the universal cracks widening, parallel atomic fault lines crashing. Rubbing together without sound or substance, still sliding open. Insignificant and yet infinite, waiting like a spider web. Or a trap.
I got too close.
I fell between.
Between worlds, between universes, co-existing and not. A human Schrödinger’s Cat. Alive and dead, one and two. One world breathing, the other bleeding. Straddling the line, pulled apart, put together, repeatedly.
Stuck in one moment on dual worlds for an eternity. And only for a second.
I close my eyes.
On one world I die.
On the other I wake up.


Walking off the World

They call it walking off the world. It’s when a space station worker loses his shit so bad he, or she, starts seeing things and hearing voices. Sometimes they crack up so hard they jettison themselves out an airlock.
Hence the nickname.
Hazards of the job the bosses tell everyone, sometimes the isolation cause metal instability.
But it isn’t true. Nobody on the station ever went crazy.
What they’re seeing, what they’re hearing, it is real. The station’s dead don’t leave. They stick around in whispers and visions.
I know.
I died, and I’m still here.
Care to join me?

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Book Spotlight: Tompkin's School (For The Extraordinarily Talented Book 1)

Today, I shine the spotlight on the paranormal novel, Tompkin's School, book one in the dark urban fantasy series, For The Extraordinarily Talented.  Enjoy.

Tompkin's School (For The Extraordinarily Talented Book 1) by Tabi Slick

Izara Torvik thought her life was over the moment that her father sent her and her twin brother to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. She soon discovers that the school is not as ordinary as she thought and finds herself thrown into a battle against her inner demons that only have one desire...the desire to kill.

You can find Tompkin's School on:

Barnes and Noble

And its Facebook Page

Book Trailer

An Excerpt From Tompkin's School:

Once my body stopped trembling, I picked myself up. It felt strange, my feet seemed to fall much lighter on the ground than normal. My head also felt a bit fuzzy. I turned and froze as I caught myself in the reflection of a full-length mirror. I glided forward to get a closer look. My eyelids had sunken into my skull and my eyes were red! I reached up to touch my pallid skin only to gawk at my hands. My fingernails had been replaced with dark, black claws.
“I’m a monster,” I hissed.
My eyes flashed up to meet my reflection once again and soon my clawed hands were the least of my worries. Two black, very large things were moving ever so slightly, blocking the reflection of the rest of the room. I looked over my shoulder to find large, black feathered, wings…

Author Bio:

Tabi Slick was born in Chanute, Kansas, and grew up in the country where she was homeschooled for the greater part of her childhood. In middle school, her family moved to Davis Oklahoma where she attended public school for several years. Here she began her writing adventure and soon the world of Tompkin's Academy came to life. After graduating from high school in 2008, she spent a few years in Puerto Rico and wound up in Texas where she graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Linguistics from the University of Texas at Arlington. She was born with an immense appreciation for literature and continues to dedicate her time to her passion of writing.

For more check out the Author's Website

Sunday, 26 June 2016

Book Spotlight: The Dreamer

Today, I have a spotlight on the horror novel, The Dreamer by Travis McBee. Enjoy.

The Dreamer by Travis McBee

Oak Grove, Georgia.
It’s a tiny mountain town where nothing ever seemed to happen. Until dreams began to come true. Dreams that could more aptly be called nightmares. Monsters, wild animals, nefarious traps, anything is possible. No one is safe. The only thing they have in common is a teenage girl, Natalie Mullin, who dreams about each new horror as they happen. But why does she dream of them? And can she stop them before she dreams of everyone she loves? For when she lays her head to rest, it’s your life that’s put to the test.

The Dreamer is available on Amazon

Book Trailer

Author Bio: 

Travis McBee was born and raised just outside of Atlanta, Georgia. He is the younger of two children and enjoys backpacking, playing rugby, and watching football. Apart from his many short stories, he is the author of several novels including, Bridgeworld; Bridgeworld: Encounter at Atlantis; The Dreamer; and Triton: Rise of Empire. He is also the author of a children's series: The Chronicles of a Second Grade Genius. He currently resides with an assortment of very fluffy animals in Georgia.

For more on the author check out these sites:

Thursday, 23 June 2016

The Heartbeat Thief, A Victorian Birthday, And Mementos Mori

Today I bring you some morbid morsels from Victorian history with a guest post by Ash Krafton, and another look at her delightfully dark novel, The Heartbeat Thief (penned under A. J. Krafton). Enjoy my minions...

A Victorian Birthday and Mementos Mori

The Victorian Era is steeped in traditions. Anything that flew in the face of tradition was shunned, cursed, and outcast. Tradition provided vital foundation, the legs upon which society stood. 
Traditions embellished every moment in life. One such tradition was the celebration of birthdays. Considering this month marks the book birthday for THE HEARTBEAT THIEF, you might expect a post on birthdays. Right? Anecdotes about parties and pastries and pretty ribbons and…
…no. Just—no.
On one hand, THE HEARTBEAT THIEF *is* pretty on the outside, like a birthday party. Beautiful and beribboned and sweet as strawberries and cream. But what is a birthday if not all about victory over death? And, deep within, that is what Senza Fyne’s tale is all about.
She is, after all, the Forever Girl. Death’s Estranged. Endless. She stopped celebrating birthdays when she learned how to steal immortality. Eventually, there was only one day she marked each year: her Unbirthing Day.
So just think about all the lovely traditions she missed out on when it came to her death. The Victorians were morbidly fascinated with death and went to great lengths to mark the occasion.

Senza could not die. She denied her loved ones so many opportunities…
No one would stop the clocks or draw all the curtains, to dwell in sad, shadowy silence.
No one would post elegantly written funeral notes of invitation.
No one would stand watch over her body, every moment from death to interment (which could take three to four days to allow family to arrive).
No one would arrange flowers around her body to mask the signs of decay.
No final death portraits, with falsely life-like poses, cosmetically-created rosy cheeks, or painted pupils in propped-open eyes.

No hair trinkets. No one would trim her winter-fire red locks and weave the tresses into rings or bracelets or brooches to wear as mourning jewelry.
No one would wear mourning for her, deep black crinoline with heavy veils and dark jet jewels. Instead, those would be her own disguise, hiding the eternal freshness of her beautiful cheeks from her aging loved ones and she sneaked like a thief through the pages of time.
No drapes upon the mirrors to prevent them from enticing her soul to enter, only to become trapped for all of wretched eternity.
No black crape hung around the doorknobs to announce the tragedy of her passing, reminding callers to avoid ringing.
No elaborate funeral procession, aristocratic and stately, with plumes and pallbearers, a hearse trimmed in white to lament the passing of one so young.
No strings tied to her finger, connecting her to coffin bells above her grave. No dead-ringers, graveyard shifts, or being saved by the bell.

See what I meant when I said the Victorians were just a little on the morbid side? Bereavement, you see, was generally the order of the day, even when there was no one to bury, because life was fragile and brief and all too often lost in the blink of an eye.
Senza Fyne would not die. Mr. Knell had worked his dark spell on her and removed her from the march of time, placing her far beyond the decayed grasp of Death. Although the Ferryman would not come for her, she was forced to watch each and everyone around her succumb to the ravages of life’s bittersweet ending.
Shadows cluttered her heart, each and every day that she went forth, beautiful and young and free of what frightened her most. She could not die.
But in that, she very nearly forgot how to live.
You can read Senza Fyne’s dark tale and take that long walk with her. See what she sees, experience what she felt as she stood still, a statue in a fast-growing, fast-wilting, ever-changing garden.

This week until June 26th, THE HEARTBEAT THIEF ebook will be $0.99!

Find it at any of these retailers:

About the author: Ash Krafton
Ash Krafton writes New Adult speculative fiction under the pen name AJ Krafton. In addition to THE HEARTBEAT THIEF, Ash is also the author of a growing list of poetry, short stories, and urban fantasy novels.
Currently, she’s working on a new series, THE DEMON WHISPERER. First book, CHARM CITY, can be found on where you can read it free. Find it here: CHARM CITY on
Find more to love at

Follow Ash at:

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Take to the Air

Today, on Drabble Wednesday, I take flight in words...


The airship drifted over the battlefield, wisps of smoke from charred remains rising to greet it. The ground below reflected death: scorched and trampled grass, gouged dirt and mud, and the tattered corpses of soldiers rotting in the sun.
The ship wandered aimlessly, the sputtering groan of its engine the only sound, save the hiss of wind. Below, silence swallowed the world, the once deafening boom of artillery quiet, guns rusting and useless. The ship flew over lifeless terrain, the fight done with no victory.
Still it flew on, its crew now dead, waiting for the fuel to run out.



I’m standing on the precipice, the sun at my back. Behind me are a scattering of my instructors and fellow students, waiting in anticipation. I simply have to step off the edge.
I’m afraid.
Such a deed hasn’t been attempted in decades, not since my particular mutation ceased manifesting itself. I was quite the surprise.
I’m the first one in eighty years.
They’ve done their best to prepare me, but they can only guess what will happen. If something goes wrong...
Failure means death. Still...
I stretch my wings to their full glory and step off the cliff.
I fly.


Last Night

“Has the sun set? It seems dark.”
“Yes, the sun has set for you, David.”
“Who’s there? I can’t see well. It’s so dark.”
“I’m an old friend, you have yet to meet. But don’t be afraid. You will come to me quietly, in your own time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will soon. We will ascend the universe together, David. To the celestial light and the comforting wonder of creation.”
David’s answer came with the exhalation of his last breath.
With a sigh, the Angel of Death wrapped David’s soul in his arms.
They flew to the stars beyond heaven.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

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